


Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin'

by edgarallanrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Pre-Series, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, Theater Kid Sam Winchester, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3129809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallanrose/pseuds/edgarallanrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is super stoked about teching his high school musical production of "Oklahoma!" and frequently treats Dean to rousing choruses of Rodgers and Hammerstein first thing in the morning. </p><p>Dean is not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin'

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a lil' head canon of mine after watching 10X05. You just know that Sam was the most enthusiastic theater kid you've ever met. 
> 
> A thousand blessings on legalizescisaac, my beta and best friend 5ever. Thank you for tolerating my badgering for you to read and edit my fics even though this is the only one I've posted thus far (whoops, I'm the worst). Also thank/curse you for introducing me to Supernatural in the first place.
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, I just borrow them.

October 19th, 1998 - Washtenaw County, Michigan

It had been a long-ass night for Dean Winchester.

Dean and his father had been tracking down a werewolf for the past several weeks. There’d been three vics in the area over the span of a couple months; hearts eaten out and bodies left to rot. That night the full moon had finally come around and they had set up a stakeout to trap the bastard. Sammy had been left back at the motel for this one because he “really needed to finish up this project discussing the role of enzymes in metabolic cell processes”. Nerd. Dean wasn’t plagued by academia-related worries anymore after dropping out halfway through the previous year. The werewolf job didn’t seem to require a whole lot of manpower, so it was just John and Dean that left in the Impala; the trunk was stocked to the brim with pistols and shotguns, all loaded with silver bullets.

However, Murphy’s Law had never taken a night off before, and it certainly wasn’t about to this time.

The mutt didn’t even show up till well past three in the morning. By then, Dean’s thighs had cramped and both feet had fallen asleep from the crouched position he’d been holding. Before either Winchester could get the monster within their sights, there was the sound of cracking twigs from the woods. They hadn’t counted on there being a whole pack.

It had been a whirlwind of claws and gunshots after that. Still, while the Winchesters left with some bad bruising and a couple of cuts that might need stitches, each werewolf had ended up with a bullet to the chest. John had given Dean a brief nod and a clap on the shoulder before ordering him to help dispose of the bodies. Dean recognized that as the only acknowledgement of approval he was going to get from his father and grabbed a shovel.

The sun was already rising by the time they returned to the motel. Sammy was still sound asleep; his gangly, rapidly growing body sprawled across one of the beds. Dean had just gotten out the first-aid kit when John’s phone rang.

“This is John. Jim? Jim, slow down,” he muttered, making a hasty exit from the room to finish the conversation. Dean cleaned the worst of his cuts on autopilot, his eyes starting to droop as the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion set in. John barged back in the room then, picking up the duffle bag that he hadn’t even had time to unpack yet.

“I’ve gotta make a run over to Blue Earth,” John said.

“Was that Pastor Jim? Is something wrong?” Dean asked, though by now he should know better than to ask questions. Sleep deprivation had made him careless.

“Just something that needs looking into. I’ll be back in a week or two,” John said, not even sparing a glance at Dean.

“Is it the monster?” He knew he didn’t need to specify _which_ monster. “Let me come with you, I can help,” Dean said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

“No, Dean. I’m leaving you the Impala, you need to get Sammy to school for his…thing,” he said with a dismissive gesture, too distracted to conjure up the necessary words.

“But I –” Dean began, moving to stand in defiance.

“Dean,” John said, standing in the doorway and finally making eye contact with his son, “you stay with Sam. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean mumbled with thinly-veiled bitterness. The sleep deprivation was resulting in all kinds of bad choices, it seemed. John gave a warning glance at Dean’s tone before walking out and locking the door behind him.

The sun had now completely risen. Dean let out a groan, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with the back of his hand. He tugged off his t-shirt before collapsing onto the bed, not bothering to get under the covers. His jeans and converse were still on. Dean got approximately forty-five minutes of blissful sleep before he was abruptly awoken by what he was sure was the distinctive cry of a harpy. He instinctively reached for the weapon under his pillow before he was awake enough to discern what the sound actually was.

“THERE’S A BRIGHT GOLDEN HAZE ON THE MEADOW!” Sam sang directly into Dean’s ear canal.

“Uuugghh,” Dean whined into his pillow, “Jeez, Sammy, I could’ve shot you.”

“THERE’S A BRIGHT GOLDEN HAZE ON THE MEADOW!”

“Shuddup, Sammy.”

“THE CORN IS HIGH AS AN ELEPHANT’S EYE,” Sam warbled loudly, emphasizing the downbeat by jumping up and down on Dean’s mattress, “AND IT LOOKS LIKE IT’S CLIMBIN’ CLEAR UP TO THE SKY! Come on, Dean, I’m gonna be late!”

“Get off, you little shit,” Dean grumbled, elbowing Sam off the mattress and onto the ground. This only seemed to encourage the brat even more.

“OH, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNIN’!” Sam picked Dean’s shirt from the floor and flung it violently at his face, “OH, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAY!”  


“I swear to God, Sammy.”

“I’VE GOT A WONDERFUL FEELIN’!” Sam dodged the pillow that was thrown at him, “EVERYTHING’S GOIN’ MY – Ow!”

Dean finally jumped out of bed, grabbing Sam in a headlock and giving him the noogie of a lifetime.

“Ya done singing, Sinatra?”

“Alright, ouch! Dean, I’m done! Uncle, okay?” Sam said, struggling to free himself. Dean used his height to overpower his little brother. He could already tell the advantage would disappear in a few years’ time, so he had to put it to use now as often as possible. He released his brother with a playful cuff to the back of his head.

“The next time I hear that god awful song I am going to disable your vocal chords permanently, Sam. Ya hear me? Permanently.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love waking up to the dulcet tones of my voice,” Sam said with an impish grin, throwing books into his backpack, “Besides, rehearsal is important.”

“Sam,” Dean said with an exasperated sigh as he hunted for a clean-enough shirt, “you aren’t even _in_ this show. You’re just running the sound booth.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam pouted, “I’ve got to be familiar with the _sound_ then, don’t I?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Dean mocked, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile despite himself.

“You’re just jealous of my talent.”

“Sure, next time I want to learn a monologue from _Our Town_ you’ll be the first person I get advice from. Until then, I wouldn’t quit your day job.”

Dean quickly slapped together a PB and J for Sam and tossed it in a paper bag along with a bag of Cheez-Its and a Fruit Roll-Up.

“Do you have your binder?”

“Yeah.”

“You grab your agenda?”

“Got it.”

“Switchblade?”

“Yes, Mom, I have everything. Quit nagging,” Sam teased.

“Alright, punk, get in the car.”

The entire car ride was filled with Sam’s incessant chattering about track listings and shoddy acoustics and the finer points of Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals. Dean was begrudgingly grateful for the noise as it was keeping him from falling asleep at the wheel. They were stopped at a red light about two blocks away from the school when Sam had finally exhausted the topic of musical theater. They sat in silence for a moment before Sam tentatively asked,

“So…uh, where is Dad? Did everything go okay with the hunt last night?”

“What? Oh, yeah, um…Pastor Jim called. Dad had to run out first thing, didn’t even get a chance to sit down before he was back out the door,” Dean said, trying to keep up a nonchalant tone as to not needlessly worry Sam.

“Oh,” Sam said. Then, “Did he say why he was going?”

“No, but…uh,” Dean said with a cough, “It must’ve been a good reason. He wouldn’t just drop everything and go if it wasn’t important.”

“Yeah,” Sam muttered, and then huffed out a sardonic laugh, “Of course.” Another beat of silence. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“Mmm, yeah, in a week or so.”

“Huh. My show is this weekend,” Sam said, attempting to make the statement sound like a casual change of subject to poorly cover up the fact that he was totally crestfallen. It was a move he had learned from his big brother.

“Hey man, I’ll still be there,” Dean reassured him as he pulled into a parking spot in front of the school.

“You will?” Sam asked, eyes wide, “I thought you hated _Oklahoma_?”

“Nah, I just hate you waking me up with the soundtrack every damn day of the week,” Dean said, reaching over to ruffle Sam’s hair, “Seriously dude, it wasn’t even cute the first time.”

Sam snickered mischievously.

“All the cattle are standin’ like statues…” he began to sing.

“Alright, out,” Dean bellowed good-humoredly, shoving Sam out the car. Sam laughed, stepping out of the Impala and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Dean handed him his lunch through the open window. Sam turned to go but then leaned back down to look through the window.

“Thanks, Dean,” he said earnestly.

“For what?” Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Just…everything,” Sam mumbled with a lame shrug, “For being there for me.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever. No crying before class, Sammy,” Dean joked.

“Shut up,” Sam said with a shy smile.

“C’mon, get outta here. Go learn something,” Dean said, shooing him away from the car.

Sam grinned and walked away toward the building, looking back once to wave at Dean. Dean returned the wave, but he didn’t move the car even well after the bell had rung and Sammy had gone inside for class. He just stayed there, staring at the school, thinking. He wondered, not for the first time, what life would be like if they didn’t have to move around all of the time. What going to school and making friends would be like. It wasn’t something he felt bad about for himself, necessarily. He was alright with the life he’d been given and couldn’t really see there ever being a different path for him. It was Sammy he wished a different life for. The kid was smart, outgoing, and passionate…even if it was _musical theater_ he was passionate about, of all things.

Dean shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Their life was what it was, and they were just going to have to grin and bear it. That’s what they had always done. And hell, at least they were together, right? At least they were still a family who would always have each others’ backs. Dean couldn’t change Sam’s life, but you could be damn sure he’d make it the best life it could possibly be.

Dean pulled out of the parking lot and zipped down the road back to the motel, singing under his breath,

“Oh, what a beautiful morning…”

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there it is folks. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!
> 
> As aforementioned, this is the first fic I have ever actually posted and also the first fic I ever wrote in this fandom. So any comments or constructive criticism you can offer would be greatly appreciated and I hope to post more in the future.
> 
> You can find me on the tumblrverse as [edgarallanrose](http://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/)
> 
> -KS


End file.
